


Colours

by beneduck_cucumberpatch



Series: Writing Prompts From Pinterest/Tumblr [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Just a snippet, M/M, Sad, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneduck_cucumberpatch/pseuds/beneduck_cucumberpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first day John and Sherlock met, the world burst to colour. That’s how it’s always been when someone met their soulmate for the first time. The second John walked into the room the colors instantly changed, his heart stopped beating in his chest and a smile broke out on to his face. It was perfect and he was quiet sure he was about to die right then from cardiac arrest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours

The first day John and Sherlock met, the world burst to colour. That’s how it’s always been when someone met their soulmate for the first time. The second John walked into the room the colors instantly changed, his heart stopped beating in his chest while a smile broke out on to his face. It was perfect and he was quite sure he was about to die right then from cardiac arrest. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked terrified. He’d never thought he actually had a person, let alone someone he’d only meet because of Mike Stamford. They fell in love quickly, and in a few years they were getting married and honeymooning in the Holmes’ family cottage in France. They spent years together in 221B until they were both as old as Mrs. Hudson was when John first met her. It was a beautiful thirty years that John cherished each day of his life. Sherlock Holmes was his life.  
It was his last day at work for the clinic and he was ready to make his way home. He gathered up a few things that he’d brought for his desk (pictures of Sherlock, a small cactus, more pictures of Sherlock) and had them all ready to go when suddenly all the colours drained from the room and he was left with the black and white he'd had before he’d walked into that hospital. The same black and white he woke up to every day before he was shot, before he came back to London, before he had a conversation with Mike Stamford on a park bench.  
His world was back to black and white and Sherlock Holmes, his soulmate, had died.


End file.
